My mother, Joyce, died by firearm suicide when I was 22 months old. She used a gun my grandfather had bought for her. I have no memory of her. Everything I know about her is secondhand, pieced together from people who loved her and a few photographs. I grew up with a hole where a relationship should have been, and I spent a long time not talking about how she died.

I talk about it now because silence is part of the problem.

When most people picture gun death in America, they picture a crime scene. A robbery, a shooting, a headline. That picture is real, but it is not the biggest piece. The biggest piece is quieter. It happens in homes, often involving people nobody would have called dangerous, frequently in a moment of crisis that passes for everyone except the person who did not survive it.

This page is the hub for everything I have written and spoken about on firearm suicide, what the research actually shows, and what works. If you came here because you are worried about someone, scroll to the bottom first. The crisis resources are there, and they matter more than anything else I have to say.

TL;DR: Most gun deaths in the US are suicides, not homicides. Firearms are the most lethal suicide method by a wide margin, and most suicidal crises are brief. That combination is exactly why putting time and distance between a person in crisis and a firearm saves lives. Safe storage, lethal means counseling, and giving a person space during a crisis are not anti-gun positions. They are how people survive long enough to get better.

The number nobody talks about

In 2023, 58 percent of all gun deaths in the United States were suicides. That is 27,300 people (CDC WISQARS, 2023). Homicides accounted for 38 percent. Suicides have been the majority of US gun deaths for years, and most people have no idea.

Firearms were the method in more than half of all suicide deaths that year (CDC WISQARS). Among men who died by suicide, a firearm was the method most of the time. This is not a fringe issue or a rare event. It is the single largest category of gun death in America, and it gets a fraction of the attention.

I think there are two reasons for the silence. The first is that suicide makes people uncomfortable in a way that crime does not. The second is that the politics of guns have gotten so loud that a conversation about keeping a suicidal person alive somehow became a fight about the Second Amendment. It should not be. Keeping someone alive during the worst moment of their life is not a partisan position.

Why the method matters more than people think

Here is the part that changed how I understand my mother’s death.

Most people assume that someone who is determined to die will find a way no matter what. The research says otherwise. The method matters enormously, because methods are not equally lethal and crises are not permanent.

Firearms are the most lethal suicide method by a wide margin. About 85 percent of suicide attempts involving a firearm end in death (Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, Means Matter). Compare that to most other methods, where the large majority of people survive the attempt. And survival matters more than almost anything, because most people who survive a suicide attempt do not go on to die by suicide later. They live. They get through the crisis, they get help, and they go on.

That is the brutal math of firearm suicide. The method is so lethal that it removes the second chance that most other methods leave open. A person in crisis does not get the chance to be found, to be treated, to wake up the next day and feel differently. With a firearm, the first attempt is usually the only one.

When I learned that, I stopped thinking about firearm suicide as a question of intent and started thinking about it as a question of access during a window of time.

I think about my mother here. The gun she used was not bought for harm. My grandfather bought it for her. It sat in her life as an ordinary object until the one moment it was not, and that moment did not give her back. I do not tell that part to assign blame. I tell it because it is the whole point. The most lethal method was within reach during the worst hour of her life, and reach is the thing we can change.

The crisis is often brief

This is the second thing the research makes clear, and it is the part that gives me hope.

A suicidal crisis is frequently short. In one study of people who survived nearly lethal attempts, most were young, most did not have a long history of major depression, and most described the act as impulsive. Researchers have found that for many people, the time between the decision and the attempt is shockingly brief. Among younger decedents, a large share experienced their crisis within 24 hours of the act, and in some cases within minutes, in the middle of an argument or a single overwhelming moment (Harvard Means Matter, citing Simon et al.).

Think about what that means. If the crisis is temporary and the method is permanent, then anything that creates space between the two saves lives. Not by curing depression. Not by solving someone’s underlying pain. Just by helping them survive the moment so the moment can pass.

That is the whole idea behind lethal means safety. It is not about taking guns away from people. It is about recognizing that a few hours, or even a few minutes, of distance can be the difference between a person who dies and a person who lives to get better.

The veterans we are losing

Veterans die by suicide at roughly twice the rate of other adults. In 2022, the veteran suicide rate was 34.7 per 100,000, compared with 17.1 for non-veterans (VA 2024 National Veteran Suicide Prevention Annual Report). The method gap is even starker than the rate gap. In 2023, firearms were involved in 73 percent of veteran suicide deaths, against 53 percent for other adults (VA 2025 National Veteran Suicide Prevention Annual Report). Somewhere around 17 to 18 veterans die by suicide every day, and most of those deaths involve a gun.

I raise this because the veteran community is where lethal means safety has the most room to save lives, and where the message has to be carried with the most respect. Many veterans own firearms for reasons bound up with service, identity, and a hard-earned sense of self-reliance. Telling them to give up their guns does not work, and it should not be the ask. What works is the same thing that works everywhere else: safe storage as a default, a trusted battle buddy who will hold firearms during a bad stretch, and a culture where reaching out is treated as strength rather than failure.

The numbers for women who served are especially alarming. The firearm suicide rate among female veterans runs far above the rate for other women. For the people living this, it is not a policy abstraction. It is a daily reality, and it responds to the same interventions that work for everyone else.

What actually works

When you accept that the method and the timing are what matter, the solutions get practical and surprisingly nonpolitical.

Safe storage. Firearms stored locked, unloaded, and separate from ammunition are harder to reach in a moment of crisis. For a household with a teenager, a veteran, or anyone going through a hard stretch, storage is the simplest protective step there is. It does not require giving up the gun. It requires a lock and a habit.

Temporary off-site storage. When someone in a home is going through a crisis, moving firearms out of the house for a while is one of the most effective things a family can do. A trusted friend, a relative, a gun shop, or a range can often hold them. It is temporary. It is voluntary. It works.

Lethal means counseling. This is a practice where doctors, nurses, and counselors talk with at-risk patients and their families about reducing access to lethal methods during a crisis. Done respectfully, it is not preachy and it is not anti-gun. It is the same logic as taking car keys from someone who has been drinking.

Time and distance. Every one of these comes down to the same principle. Put time and distance between a person in crisis and the most lethal method, and you give the crisis a chance to pass. That is not a slogan. It is what the evidence supports.

What safe storage actually looks like

When I say safe storage, I do not mean a vague good intention. I mean specific, boring, effective habits.

A gun safe or a lockbox that actually gets used, locked rather than bought and left open. Ammunition stored separately from the firearm, in its own locked container. A cable lock or trigger lock on anything not in a safe. And for a household going through a crisis, the strongest option is getting the firearms out of the home entirely for a while, whether that means a trusted friend, a relative, a commercial storage facility, or a gun shop that offers holding services.

The point of every one of these is the same. Add steps and time between an impulse and an irreversible act. The research on lethal means is consistent on this. The friction matters. A locked safe that takes 30 seconds to open is 30 seconds in which a crisis can start to pass. None of this requires surrendering the right to own a firearm. It requires treating the firearm the way you would treat anything else in your home that can end a life in an instant, with deliberate care about who can reach it and when.

Talking to gun owners, not past them

I want to be direct about something, because it matters for whether any of this works.

A lot of suicide prevention messaging fails because it sounds like gun control wearing a different hat. Gun owners can hear it coming, and they tune out. I understand why. If every conversation about firearms is really a conversation about taking firearms away, then trust breaks down and the people who most need to hear about safe storage stop listening.

The most effective work in this space does the opposite. The Means Matter campaign at Harvard built its entire approach around partnering with gun owners, gun shops, and range owners, because those are the people other gun owners actually trust. A gun shop owner who keeps a flyer about safe storage by the register, or who offers to hold a customer’s firearms during a rough patch, reaches people that no public health campaign ever will.

I am a gun safety advocate. I am also someone who understands that you do not save lives by lecturing the people you need as partners. If you own firearms and you are reading this, I am not asking you to give anything up. I am asking you to store them safely, to be willing to hold a friend’s guns if that friend is struggling, and to treat a suicidal crisis in your circle the way you would treat any other emergency.

How to actually have the conversation

The hardest part for most people is not the statistics. It is knowing what to say to someone they are worried about. So here is the plain version.

Ask directly. “Are you thinking about suicide?” The research is clear that asking does not plant the idea. It does the opposite. It tells the person that you see them and that the subject is not off limits.

Listen without rushing to fix it. You do not need the right words. You need to stay in the room, in person or on the phone, and let them know they are not alone in it.

Then move to means. If the person has access to firearms and they are in a dark place, ask whether you can help store them somewhere safe for a while. Offer to hold them yourself. Frame it as temporary, because it is. You are not taking anything away. You are holding it until the storm passes.

And connect them to help. 988 is the easiest handoff there is, and you can make the call together. The goal is never to play therapist. The goal is to be the person who kept someone alive long enough for the professionals, and for time, to do their work.

Policy that saves lives

Individual choices matter most, but policy sets the conditions. A few things have strong evidence behind them.

Extreme risk laws. These laws, sometimes called red flag laws, let family members or law enforcement ask a court to temporarily remove firearms from a person who is showing clear signs of being a danger to themselves or others. Studies estimate that for every 10 to 22 such orders issued, roughly one suicide is prevented (Swanson et al., Psychiatric Services, 2024). As of 2025, 21 states and Washington, DC have these laws (Giffords Law Center). Wisconsin, where I have spent most of my advocacy years, does not. That is a gap, and it costs lives.

The 988 Lifeline. In July 2022, the country launched 988 as a three-digit number for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Since then it has answered more than 13 million calls, texts, and chats (988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline). It is the closest thing we have to a front door for someone in crisis, and it works. The number is the easiest thing on this page to remember, and it is the most important.

Funding crisis services. A phone number is only as good as the people who answer it. Sustained funding for crisis centers, follow-up care, and community mental health is what turns a moment of contact into a path forward.

What you can do right now

If you take nothing else from this page, take these.

Store your firearms locked, unloaded, and separate from ammunition. Every time.

If someone you love is struggling, ask them directly whether they are thinking about suicide. Asking does not put the idea in their head. It opens a door.

If that person has access to firearms and they are in crisis, help them get those firearms out of the house for a while. Offer to hold them yourself.

Save 988 in your phone right now, and share it with the people you care about.

And talk about it. The silence that surrounded my mother’s death for most of my life was not protecting anyone. It just made it harder to see the problem clearly. We do better when we say the thing out loud.